


Fireworks of a Different Kind

by MildlyMoonstruck



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - New Year's Eve, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildlyMoonstruck/pseuds/MildlyMoonstruck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes we need to know we can still make explosions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks of a Different Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year's, guys! I was inspired.

The party is incredibly boring.

At least, that’s what Eren thinks—though if he’s being honest with himself, he’s never been one for these types of parties. A small get-together with close friends, beer and bad music—but also a lot of laughter—is much more his style, not this fancy event that’s all suits and ties, sparkling gowns that rival the crystal champagne glasses floating around the room on trays balanced on the hands of the wait staff. Eren hasn’t so much as breathed near a glass of alcohol the entire evening, and it’s nearly midnight already, but he’s too wary of embarrassing himself by getting a bad case of butterfingers at the wrong time and dropping it.

A single glass is probably worth just as much as the tuition he’s struggling to pay, and the last thing he needs is more debt.

He knows he should probably be a bit more cheerful—it is New Year’s Eve, after all, and the party is important to his parents. A lot of important people from his father’s workplace are in attendance, and though he has no idea who most of them are, they all know that he’s Dr. Jaeger’s son, and so, he has to at least _try_ to act like he fits in here.

Even if he’d rather walk the twenty or so blocks back from this posh hotel ballroom to his house, to his cramped but cozy bedroom and trade in the crisp black suit and uncomfortably slicked-back hair for his favorite pair of faded green pajama pants and a shower.

“This is so stupid,” he mutters. His sister, standing beside him and having been the absolute picture of grace and poise the entire evening, side-eyes him with the most expressive look he’s seen on her face all evening. Unfortunately, it’s a look that tells him that she’s rapidly losing patience with his attitude.

“Eren,” she murmurs tiredly. “Just bear with it for a few more hours and then we can leave.”

“It _is_ though,” he continues, frowning. “I don’t get why I have to be here. I don’t even like New Year’s Eve; it’s just another night where everybody pretends that the clock going from 11:59 to 12:00 is going to magically turn them into a less lazy human being.”

“We’re here because Mom and Dad wanted to spend the night celebrating as a family—”

“Could’ve done that at home.”

“—And if you hate New Year’s Eve so much, then just pretend it’s just some dumb frat party; you seem to like those, if half of your Facebook pictures since you’ve started college are any indication. Only, you know, cleaner. And everybody looks nice. And the alcohol doesn’t taste toxic. You know what—”

“I _wish_ I was at a frat party; I’d be plastered by now.”

“—not at all like a frat party, never mind. Just pretend you’re not whiny and cynical for the rest of the night,” she finishes flatly, but then she gives him a tiny smile and gently pats his arm. Eren scowls but doesn’t complain; Mikasa has always been more considerate than he has, and he can’t blame her for wanting to enjoy her night and not being in the mood for his crap. He shrugs off her touch and tells her he’s just going to wander around the room for a while, and even though she can’t hide the brief look of relief, she tells him to come find her when he gets bored or lonely.

The truth is it wouldn’t take long; he’s already bored out of his skull, and as for lonely, well. It’s a crowded room of glittering people, none of which he’s interested in being around save for his family, and they’re all off enjoying the night.

Lonely is a little bit of an understatement.

Eren eventually finds himself in an empty little section of the ballroom that’s empty of anyhing except the soft music of the hired band—irritatingly elegant like everything else about this stupid party—and so he leans against the wall and stares at the rest of the guests, feeling separated from them by far more than a few feet of floor space when he hears someone clear their throat nearby.

He looks to his left and sees their eyes first—tired-looking but utterly piercing in their gaze, light-colored but with a darker glint than the glaringly pristine marble floors or painfully bright lights that have been assaulting his senses for the better part of the night. In fact, this stranger is like one big—then again, maybe ‘big’ isn’t the word, since he can’t be more than a little over five feet tall—dark spot in this party, pale skin but a suit and tie and slicked-back hair the color of midnight.

Midnight.  Eren blinks, a little startled by the realization that he isn’t alone like he’d thought, and says the first thing that pops into his head. “What time is it?”

The stranger’s gaze sweeps over him, and Eren isn’t sure whether he should feel uncomfortable or offended at how closely scrutinized he feels and how, judging by the unfriendly look, he’s not passing whatever test the stranger is putting him up to when the man answers, “Time for you to find someone who has a watch.”

His voice is dry and unexpectedly deep—at least to Eren, who’d expected something that matched their soft face and almost elfin features. And then the stranger adds, with a considerably diminished amount of civility, “Unless you were planning on turning whatever answer you expected to get into a lead-in to some stupid pickup line. Then I’m gonna have to go with, time for you to leave me the hell alone.”

Eren’s eyes go wide in surprise and he wonders if anything about this man fits his clean-cut appearance. At a loss for what to address first or which route to take while he does it, he manages a confused, “How would I turn it into a pickup line?”

The man stares at him and, apparently arriving to the conclusion that no, he’s not trying to be a smartass, responds with an annoyed, “Someone before you asked me for the time and then said, ‘Just wanted to know how long it’ll be until I can kiss you at midnight.’” He looks supremely disturbed, and Eren shares the sentiment.

“That’s really, um… forward,” he answers, deciding to give politeness a try—also because he’s at least tactful enough to know that swearing probably isn’t a good idea, especially in front of someone he doesn’t even have the name of. For all he knows, this guy could be one of his father’s coworkers; even though the stranger doesn’t look like he’s much older than early-to-mid-twenties, he doesn’t want to chance it.

And then he’s taken aback yet again when he snorts and responds, “It’s really fucking stupid, that’s what.” He glances down, pushing up his right sleeve and exposing the silver Rolex on his wrist. “A quarter to midnight.” He carefully readjusts his sleeve before meeting Eren’s eyes again. “Since you asked.”

“Nice watch,” is the intelligent response.

He quirks a thin brow at Eren and almost sounds amused when he answers, “Birthday present from a friend.”

“Oh. Happy birthday. Er, belated birthday, I guess.”

“Not that belated,” he drawls, finally glancing away. “Not even a week late, so, thanks.” The pause seems deliberate, as does the faintly mocking smirk on his lips when he adds, “I guess.”

Eren can’t believe that he’s making conversation with a stranger whose name he doesn’t even know just as much as he can’t believe his own sheer stupidity when, instead of asking for his name like a normal person, he instead comments, “Your friend must be really rich, affording something like that.”

The stranger lifts a hand to his mouth to muffle a suspicious cough, but his voice is rich with amusement when he says, “You could say that.” He looks back to Eren and gestures to the room at large. “This party is being thrown by his parents, after all.”

Eren blinks. “The Smiths? You know Erwin?”

His looks at Eren instead of through him, now. “ _You_ know Erwin?”

“Well, I—” he stumbles, unconsciously running a hand through his hair and messing up the neatly arranged locks; he winces and resolves to try and fix it before his mother can see it. “My dad works with his parents and I’ve met him, like, twice before at these things, so… yeah,” he finishes lamely, trying to ignore the hot color that rises in his cheeks. “Uh. How do you know Erwin?”

He stares at him like he can’t believe the words that have just come out of his mouth, and Eren gets why when he slowly lifts up his right sleeve again and shows him the watch— _the birthday present from a friend_. He doesn’t even have to say anything; the look on his face speaks volumes.

“I’m not usually this stupid,” Eren says, trying to play off his own embarrassment.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“It’s just this stupid New Year’s Eve stuff that has me out of it,” Eren explains. “I just think it’s all kind of ridiculous and the people that take it seriously are just…” he trails off, suddenly realizing that this stranger probably takes it seriously, considering he’s Erwin’s friend and this is a party being thrown by Erwin’s family. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I just don’t really like it.”

“Then why are you here?” he asks, and his voice isn’t unkind. He sounds a little curious, in fact, and it makes Eren feel a little better.

“My parents wanted the whole family to come and celebrate.” Eren shrugs and adds, “It’s not my thing. But I couldn’t say no.”

He lets out a soft huff and says, “Aren’t you noble.”

Eren stifles a smile but doesn’t manage to tamp down the challenging tone when he fires back, “Can you blame me? At least I acknowledge it, rather than pretending that I’m suddenly going to be this amazing person when in reality, all I’m going to do is buy a new calendar.”

The stranger laughs then, a quick bark of sound that’s strangely charming and leaves Eren speechless for a moment, which is just long enough for him to say, “And here I thought Erwin was the only one with that attitude. He always complains about people who wait for an excuse or a special occasion to start improving things when they can always do it any old day of the week.”

Eren nods, pleased. “He’s right. It’d be better if people just didn’t try and change at all, rather than decide to do it just cause it’s January again. Better than forgetting about your resolution two weeks after the year starts and then hitting 11:59 PM twelve months later and realizing you didn’t really do anything.”

The stranger frowns at him then, but it’s more of a contemplating look than anything. After a couple of moments, he murmurs, “Aren’t you a little young to be so cynical?”

Eren shrugs. And then, because he has no filter this late at night—maybe it’s a good thing he’s not drunk after all, if he can’t even remember to think before he speaks when he’s sober—he blurts, “How old are you?” After a moment of surprised silence, he hastily adds, “To be asking me how young I am, I mean. Cause. You don’t look old enough to be asking me that question.”

There’s a pregnant pause, and Eren gets the feeling that the stranger is only letting the silence drag on to make him uncomfortable—unfortunately, it’s working—when he finally answers, “I’m twenty-five.”

Eren blinks. “Oh. Well I’m twenty-one. And we’re both pretty young. So I’m just going to turn that right back around and ask, aren’t you a little young to be lecturing me?”

He gives an easy shrug and inclines his head, not quite conceding but acknowledging his point. He says, “It wasn’t really a lecture. I was just saying.” His lips quirk up again, a very faint smile. “A year ago, I would’ve agreed with you, actually. But now I don’t think New Year’s Eve is all that bad.”

“What changed your mind? Uh, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind,” he responds almost breezily. He shrugs. “It’s just been a hell of a year, and maybe I don’t mind the chance to celebrate, even if it’s something as stupid as a giant reminder that now I need to buy a new calendar.” He smirks. “Maybe I’ll tell Erwin to get me one for my next birthday. Less work for me.”

Eren laughs, relaxing at the flippant answer. “I guess I see your point.” He looks out at the sea of partygoers, all of them starting to crowd in the center of the floor. The room is buzzing with energy now and talks of the countdown that’s rapidly approaching, but he feels considerably more peaceful than he’d started the night as, here in this bare spot against the wall with this not-so-unpleasant stranger whose name he still doesn’t know.

“Do you have a resolution, then?” Eren asks, instead of asking for his name. Really, he doesn’t _need_ to know; he just likes the company.

He shrugs again, pushing his hands into his pockets and leaning back against the wall, watching the crowd. “Not really. My friends have already made plenty about me already—get out more. Have fun once in a while. Stuff like that.” He looks at Eren and explains, “I’m not one for socialization; this is actually the first party I’ve been to in a long time, and it’s only cause Erwin was ready to drag me here if I didn’t agree to go on my own.”

“Sorry,” Eren says, and when he receives a look of confusion, he explains, “Sorry for bothering you. If you don’t like talking to people, I mean.”

His gaze is calm, and a little bit of something else that he can’t quite read. “You’re not bad,” is all he says.

Eren feels his face warm, and he hopes he’s just getting overheated in this stifling suit rather than blushing—though he suspects it’s the latter, and he’s not quite sure how to feel about that. He clears his throat awkwardly, but before he can speak, the stranger asks, “What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Any resolutions?”

Eren gives him a wry smile. “What’s the point, though? What can I resolve to do now that I couldn’t do any other time of the year?”

He blinks, gaze suddenly serious. But his voice is easy. “Anything you want,” he tells him, and his tone strikes a chord with Eren.

He probably hadn’t meant it to be so profound, but Eren finds an arresting sincerity in those words that makes him think that, yeah, maybe he can understand what’s so attractive about New Year’s Eve to some people.

He can’t think of anything to say, though; his mind is curiously blank now, and all he can do is stare at the stranger, watch the way he looks back into the crowd and seems perfectly content to stand back and watch them buzz with excitement as the clock hits 11:59 and they start the countdown from the final minute.

Now that Eren’s the one studying him, he privately admits to himself that he is a very attractive guy. He might hate wearing a fancy suit and putting up with all the fuss about New Year’s, but this man with dark good looks and a surprisingly optimistic outlook that he wouldn’t have expected from a guy who looks as gloomy as he does at first glance is… incredibly attractive, actually.

“What’s your name?” Eren finally asks, and his voice is so soft that he thinks that he’s gone unheard over the steady counting of the other guests.

“Levi,” he answers after a while, voice pitched just as low. Eren wonders if he’s crazy for thinking that the moment has suddenly turned intimate when Levi tilts his head towards him, the glow of light from the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling reflecting in his eyes. “Yours?”

“Eren,” he breathes, leaning in so that he can be heard over the growing volume of the crowd.

“Eren,” Levi repeats, and maybe Eren is imagining the intimacy of the moment, but he’s definitely not imagining the step closer that Levi takes, nor the soft smile playing about the corners of his lips. “So,” he murmurs. “Ten seconds left. Still no resolution? No big plans?”

“What could I do?” Eren whispers, and his stomach swoops when he sees Levi’s pupils dilate. He feels warm. It’s definitely not because of the suit. Well, a little bit because of the suit, but the rest is because—

“Anything you want,” Levi says, the words slow and inviting.

He’d like to pretend that he’s as suave as guys in movies are, who can just swoop in with a kiss when the countdown reaches zero, but the honest truth is that his life is nowhere close to being like a movie, and he suspects that just kissing a stranger out of the blue—even on New Year’s—wouldn’t be the best idea he’s ever had.

So instead, when the clock hits midnight and the crowd explodes with cheers and confetti raining down from above, when the big band starts playing a jaunty version of Auld Lang Syne and people are running around hugging and kissing—Eren grins, his first real smile of both the night and the new year.

“I know we just met,” he shouts over the crowd, and Levi’s interested expression doesn’t change, so he takes it as a go-ahead and continues, “And it’s your friend’s party, and my parents will probably kill me, and it’s like, five degrees out and the food here is probably a million times better, but—”

“Are you gonna get to the point any time soon?”

“Do you wanna get out of here? Go somewhere?”

Levi narrows his eyes at him but sounds almost playful when he says, “Give me a reason to say yes.”

Eren grins even wider, and just for this second, he feels warm and good and if this is what everyone else feels about New Year’s, then yeah, maybe—just maybe—it’s not so bad. “You said it’s New Years. And you’re the first interesting person I’ve talked to all night, and I want to get to know you. And if you haven’t minded talking to me for this long, then I hope you won’t mind talking to me for a little bit longer. So… how about it?”

Slowly, Levi returns the smile with one of his own—a genuine smile, a little lopsided but revealing straight, white teeth and an adorable little dimple in his left cheek—and says, “Not bad, Eren.”

Eren chuckles and runs a hand through his hair again, forgetting himself and completely unable to care. “Is that a yes?” he prompts, hopeful. He’s eager to get out of here, but for a different reason now. A better one.

Levi snorts. “Yeah,” he says. “What the hell.”

And after they’ve snuck out of the side doors and to the parking lot, briskly walking through the light snowfall and trying not to shiver—after they’ve gotten into Levi’s car because Eren’s is at home, and they’ve turned up the heat on full-blast, Eren laughs when Levi cards his hands through his hair and grumbles in annoyance at ‘ruining’ it just to shake off the snowflakes and says, “Happy New Year.”

Levi rolls his eyes but smirks at him. “Yeah, yeah, Happy New Year. So tell me, genius,” he says, tugging on the end of Eren’s tie. “What exactly are we going to do at midnight on New Year’s?”

Eren smiles, shrugs, and answers, “Anything you want.”


End file.
